


Modernity

by orphan_account



Category: Dragon Age
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-10-22
Updated: 2012-10-22
Packaged: 2017-11-16 19:51:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 797
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/543215
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Drabble based off a modern!AU.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Modernity

She was a severe-looking young woman, and the very thought of meeting her frightened him. Women tended to frighten him in general, but as he nervously stood around in her office with his hands in his pockets, he was trying to figure out why this woman unsettled him so and why his heart had sped up when her secretary told him “She’ll be right in”.  Perhaps it was due to the fact that she wore her hair back in a tight and simple bun which pulled at her skin and made her look mean. Or perhaps it was because she inherited her war veteran father’s brilliant blue eyes which had been suffocating whenever he caught her looking at him during those rare “let’s invite the bastard over for dinner” moments in his life.

Or it could have been the pantsuit. Women in pantsuits were awfully terrifying.

There wasn’t much in the office to look at. It was sheer white; looking like it had come straight out of an Ikea magazine. It was minimalism at its finest and all he could really do was rock back and forth on the balls of his feet and stare at the single stalk of lavender in a thin white vase. It was wilting, and in contrast to all the white it was a sorry sight.

How odd that there wasn’t a photo of his half-brother in sight. His tragic death may have been a year or so ago, but something seemed wrong about a widow not keeping a photo of her late husband. Maybe she thought it would distract from work…?

Her mousy-haired secretary popped her head in. “Anora’s here. You should take a seat, monsieur.”

He looked down at a chair that was much too small for a man of his stature, and as he was trying to figure out how exactly he should sit in such a tiny contraption, the cutthroat bitch he heard so much about entered and cleared her throat. It caught him off-guard and he fumbled, practically falling ass-first into the chair.

There was a creaking sound, but the chair held, apparently stronger than it had appeared.

“So glad to see you have arrived, Alistair.” Anora’s voice was smooth and chilled, and she glided over towards her desk, settling herself in a much larger, much comfier looking chair. She leaned forward, lacing her fingers together in mock interest, and while she was smiling there was a cold, calculating distance in her eyes.

He decided then and there that it were her eyes that frightened him…and quite possibly the pantsuit. Still couldn't rule that out.

Alistair straightened his posture despite his stomach twisting and turning into knots. He offered her a smile, the fear in his eyes more genuine than the attempted pleasantry, and he watched as her fake smile dissolved into a thin line of disapproval.

She opened a drawer and pulled out a manila folder, sifting through the documents in it.  “Let’s cut to the chase. You ended your attempted military career early so you could take over the family business in Cailan’s place.” Alistair craned his neck in an attempt to see what the papers in the manila folder were, but when her brilliant blue eyes snapped up to catch his wandering gaze, he froze in his seat. He opened his mouth to say something, but she hushed him with a dismissive wave of the hand as she went back to looking at the contents of the folder.

“I have heard what they say about me. That I am a cutthroat bitch, that I don’t deserve this company as Cailan’s widow. That his younger bastard of a brother is far more qualified than some uppity, nasty woman, all because he is Maric Theirin’s son…never mind the fact that he doesn’t know a thing about business and management.” The folder snapped shut, and she handed it over to him.

He found that the documents in it were all related to him. Grades, his birth certificate, even a season’s greetings card he had sent his brother for the holidays: a photo of him wearing reindeer swimming trunks holding a giant plastic fish with a Rudolf nose, the words “Fishing you the very best Fishmas and a Carpy New Year” scrawled in cursive on the decorated border. He chuckled lightly to himself at the joke, though his mirth dissipated when he looked up to see Anora glaring at him.

“No matter what Eamon has told you, know this: you will not be getting my job so easily.” She plucked the wilting lavender out of its vase, turning it between her fingers thoughtfully. “In fact, you may not get it at all by the time I’m through with you.”

He winced as she crushed the stem.

**Author's Note:**

> Based off [random thoughts gathered by a group of people on plurk](http://poppulchritude.tumblr.com/post/34034881713/what-happens-when-i-make-a-plurk-about-leliana).
> 
> More characters and scenarios to potentially come, but until then this is a one-shot.


End file.
